


sorry honey (i'll just let you down)

by astralscrivener



Series: abc's of klance [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Black Paladin Lance (Voltron), Blood and Violence, Established Keith/Lance (Voltron), I'm Sorry, I'm so sorry, M/M, Post-Season/Series 05, Whump, during julance too just throw me out of the airlock already
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-04 20:52:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15155387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astralscrivener/pseuds/astralscrivener
Summary: d is for defeat.“This won’t matter tomorrow,” Keith said, and leaned his head on Lance’s. “Tomorrow, we’re getting out of here.”Keith and Lance attempt an escape from the Galra base where they've been imprisoned.sequel/part two tobare my skin, count my sins.





	sorry honey (i'll just let you down)

**Author's Note:**

> "this is a rite of passage in fandom life," i chant quietly, through my tears
> 
> I'M SORRY I'VE HAD THIS ENDING PLANNED FOR MONTHS
> 
> (bonus points if u can name the song where i got the title from bc detgwrebwregrfvef if u know the song it just makes it worse)
> 
> **trigger warnings for violence, blood, mild gore, yada yada, oh and you all read the big bold tag at the beginning, right?**

**d. defeat**

            Lance’s time on the training deck of the base went only slightly better than Keith’s had.

            He still managed to stumble along on two feet, guards on either one of his arms, the barrel of a gun pressed to the back of his head as they marched him as best they could back to his cell. His hands were cuffed behind his back with different cuffs than he and Keith had been subjected to yesterday, tight cuffs that tore right through his jumpsuit and bit into skin.

            Blood ran down Lance’s face, completely cutting off his vision in his left eye, swollen with a bruise, blood vessel likely burst again. He winced at the thought, and winced again when he realized that in just a moment, he’d be reunited with Keith, and Keith’s injuries would mirror his own perfectly, eagerly awaiting the healing that would add them to the scars carved into their skin.

            “Alright, in you go,” the guard at Lance’s left grunted as they got to the cell and opened the door. They shoved him inside, hard enough for him to crash to his knees. The impact shot up his legs, through his system, and Lance pitched forward. He leaned, and went into a roll to avoid smashing his face into the floor.

            The cuffs dug harder into his wrists, drew more blood as he rolled on his arms, and then came back up to his knees, this time with better balance. Meanwhile, the door clanged shut, guards talking to each other as they left, Keith and Lance clearly not important enough to pay attention to.

            “Keith?” Lance asked quietly, eyes scanning over the dark room. They landed on the corner. Keith sat against the wall, legs stretched out in front of him, hands lying uselessly, empty, in his lap.

            The Paladin in question looked up at the sound of his name. Even with the lack of light, Lance watched the corners of Keith’s eyes crinkle, watched his dark brows knit in concern, and then his whole body moved. Slowly, painstakingly, with the wall as a support, Keith stood up, and then limped his way over to Lance, using his left leg to hold most of his weight. His right ankle must have been sprained, just as Lance’s was.

            “Let me see your wrists,” Keith whispered, because he couldn’t manage anything else.

            Lance nodded and stood back up, Keith gently grasping an arm to steady him. Once Lance was stable, Keith moved to the cuffs, and a few seconds later, there was a click, and the cuffs gave way, falling to the floor. Keith would’ve kicked them across the room, maybe, if his ankle wasn’t sprained and he didn’t need to use his other leg to stand.

            Instead, he took Lance into his arms, into a light hug. Light, because they each had injuries to the torso, definitely a broken rib or two, many more bruised, on top of other cuts and other bruises and other gashes and _Keith wasn_ _’t even sure how the two of them were still on their feet._

            “I’m sorry,” Lance murmured into Keith’s neck. “I tried. I tried so hard.”

            A leader should’ve been able to protect his own. No matter that Keith was his right hand, no matter that the Red Paladin was willing to charge into battle alongside him, regardless of the potential cost. Keith was part of the team, was his _boyfriend,_ and Lance let him get hurt.

            “It’s okay,” Keith responded, and swallowed hard. “You did your best.”

            Yeah, he was trying his best, but his _best_ didn’t amount to much against multiple bots all hellbent on killing him. It amounted to nothing but him resorting to close-range combat with his bayard in sword mode, rather than his rifle, because he couldn’t distance himself from the bots enough to switch to his gun and line up a shot.

            “Doesn’t feel like it,” Lance mumbled.

            He could feel the frown on Keith’s face, and then they broke apart—mostly. Keith loosely laced their fingers and limped off to his corner, and Lance followed, and the two of them eased themselves back to the ground. Lance leaned his head on Keith’s shoulder, while Keith brought an arm around him.

            “This won’t matter tomorrow,” Keith said, and leaned his head on Lance’s. “Tomorrow, we’re getting out of here.”

            Tomorrow. Tomorrow, they would both be on the training deck, and whether Enira meant together as in fighting side-by-side, or together as in pitted against each other, neither of them knew for sure. Or at least, neither of them knew what _Enira_ _’s_ intent for them being on at the same time was. _Their_ intent was to use the weapons they’d be given to their advantage and bust out of there—and they _would_ bust out. Maybe alone, they’d each gotten their asses handed to them, but now, they knew what to expect. They knew how the sentries and guards operated, knew how Enira liked to work things (mostly), and knew how the bots fought.

            Together, they had a chance.

            At least, that was the plan.

            Then again, their plan for their mission had been to sweep this base for Shiro or other prisoners, rescue whoever they could, destroy it, and then get the hell outta dodge. Their plan certainly didn’t include capture and torture.

            Lance made a noise of discomfort at Keith’s statement, scrunching up, pressing himself closer to Keith.

            _You should_ _’ve been the Black Paladin,_ Lance wanted to say. It’d been that way before everything had gone down with the clone, before Keith broke from the team to join the Blade of Marmora for a brief stint, and it should’ve been that way when they discovered that the clone was _actually a clone_ , when Keith returned to the team, and brought their ranks back to five.

            All the confident bravado from yesterday was _gone,_ torn to shreds and pounded to dust on that training deck when he had the wind knocked out of him, when all he could think about with every single blow was Keith, in the lab above the training deck, being cut up in the same ways by the soldiers under Enira’s orders.

            “Stop thinking like that,” Keith murmured into Lance’s hair, followed up by the smallest of kisses. “Things would’ve been ten times worse if I was leading the mission. We’d probably have the whole team captured.”

            Lance didn’t know how the whole team could’ve gotten captured on a two-person mission, but decided then that he didn’t want to begin speculating about the ways that such a thing was possible. He settled for another nod as he chewed on his lower lip, while Black and Red rumbled their agreements in his head, and Keith sent waves of his own comfort to him through their bonds.

            “Tomorrow,” Lance repeated, allowing himself a moment to revel in the sensation, to let Keith’s and Red’s and Black’s energies all wrap around him.

            Tomorrow, Enira and her soldiers wouldn’t know what hit them.

* * *

            The rest of their day dragged on rather uneventfully. They spent their time in the cell, with only each other for entertainment and comfort. Soldiers stopped twice, to bring breakfast and lunch—and _yes_ , those heathens had made Lance fight on the training deck on an empty stomach—but otherwise left them alone.

            Well, mostly.

            The lunch trays clanged down on the floors, the little food on them jolting, some of it scattering onto the floor. Keith and Lance each looked up from where they were cuddled against each other, against the wall furthest from the door. The soldier bringing them this meal stopped, eyebrows raised at the sight of the two prisoners, unchained, free to roam the cell as they pleased. Free to try and stage another ambush.

            “Don’t know what Enira’s thinking with this,” the guard grumbled, and stalked further into the room, over the lunch trays.

            Lance and Keith’s protective switches both seemed to flip on at that moment, both of them trying to put a shielding arm up in front of the other. Lance shot Keith a single, pleading look that had Keith backing down with only a smidge of reluctance. Still, he insisted on putting a hand around Lance’s waist, tight, ready to draw him back at a moment’s notice.

            The soldier had something in hand, a stick of some kind, and when they flicked their wrist, it elongated, electricity crackling across a long rod. Lance pressed back harder into Keith, while Keith’s grip on him only tightened. They each grit their teeth as they looked up at the soldier.

            “Are you authorized to use that?” Lance challenged, forcing his patented Leader Voice through the pain his vocal cords had gone through after all of his screaming the last two days.

            “Hmm, I don’t know.” The soldier stepped closer to him and raised the rod, stepped closer until it was inches from Lance’s face, and Keith and Lance’s free hands sought each other out. “Care to find out?”

            Lance eyed the rod, the closer it got to his face. The electricity crackling around it glowed the same purple that everything else electrical on the base did, discoloring Lance’s vision the longer he looked at it. By now, Keith’s hand and arm around him were steel-solid, squeezing the life out of Lance.

            “You won’t,” Lance breathed out.

            The soldier glared, and for a moment, they and Lance did nothing but stare at each other, before the soldier withdrew with a scowl, rod shortening, electricity shutting down.

            “Maybe not _now_ ,” the soldier growled, “but it would do you wise to keep your mouth shut, Black Paladin. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to Red, now, would you?”

            “How original,” Lance bit back. “Playing us against each other for leverage, like we haven’t been through that a thousand times. Get new tactics, then we’ll talk.”

            The soldier stopped halfway to the door, and looked over their shoulder with a wicked grin, one that had Lance suppressing shivers.

            “You’ll regret that,” the soldier said, and then turned around, chuckling to themselves as they walked out of the room, the door clanging shut in their wake.

            Lance deflated.

            He sank back into Keith, and Keith didn’t let him go, nor did he try to remind Lance that their food rations were here, and they should’ve been eating while they had the chance. Keith didn’t move at all until Lance sighed, shifted, and then wiggled out of his arms, and painstakingly dragged himself over to the food. Keith followed after a moment of hesitation.

            Neither of them knew what was actually being put into the oatmeal-like substance and water-like liquid that they were given three times a day. So far, they’d found no adverse effects, but then again, they hadn’t been here that long, and had no idea how long Enira intended to keep them alive for, or for what purpose.

            _“You two make a lethal pair, it seems.”_

            Okay, so maybe they had a little bit of an idea.

            Keith watched Lance carefully, stomach churning at the idea of the both of them under the Empire’s control—at Lance, wielding his rifle against people who should’ve been allies, killing without mercy, bowing to the whims of Enira and Haggar and Lotor without question.

            _He can_ _’t. He won’t._

            To get Lance to bow to one of them would be to break him, and Keith could already see the cracks forming, fissures and fractures a hit away from shattering.

            Keith kept watching Lance all throughout their meager lunch break, at a loss for what to say. Words had never been his forte, no matter how hard he might’ve tried—they were _Lance_ _’s_ thing, and maybe Lance didn’t expect him to say anything, but guilt still ate away at Keith, the longer he went without saying something, the longer he stayed _silent._

            “Lance,” Keith said then, and immediately regretted it, as Lance lifted his head, eyebrows curving up.

            Thoughts swirled in Keith’s head, each one begging to be articulated, none of them quite right for the moment, none of them _strong enough_ for the moment.

            “I’ve got you,” Keith finally settled on. “You know that, right?”

            _Of course he knows it, you idiot._

            “I know,” Lance replied quietly, and pushed his lunch tray away, food barely touched.

            Keith frowned. “I mean it, Lance. And it goes beyond just being your boyfriend. It—I’m _with you,_ alright? No matter what. And it means that even if you somehow managed to make it so that you were the only one who ended up captured, I would’ve gone after you anyway. No matter what you did, it would’ve ended up like this. Please, _please_ …”

            Lance was sitting cross-legged now, bent over, staring at the ground. Keith caught his wrist and held it until Lance raised his head again and looked at him. Keith’s heart clenched in his chest at the hollowness to his eyes, the exhaustion settled upon him.

            “Stop blaming _yourself_.”

            Keith’s voice had dropped and gone hoarse.

            “I’d _rather_ it be this way, than one of us alone. I _trust you._ We’re not a good team for nothing. And we’re getting out of here, one way or another.”

            The words must’ve struck something in Lance. His eyes focused in on Keith, like he was truly seeing him this time, seeing beyond the exterior and down into Keith’s soul. A long time ago, the stare would’ve unsettled Keith, but he found comfort in it now, because it meant he and Lance were on the same wavelength, meant Lance was fully understanding.

            Whether Lance liked it or not, he and Keith were in this together. Keith would have walked through hell, if it meant Lance wouldn’t undergo such a journey alone. Maybe he would’ve claimed he’d walk through hell just to keep Lance from undergoing the journey _at all_ , but he knew that, just as much as he stuck by Lance’s side, Lance would stick by him—he’d forbid Keith to go through hell alone. Not if he could help it.

            “We just have to wait it out,” Keith said. “Once we’re on the training deck? It’s over for them.”

            Keith’s smile was wistful, hopeful, and Lance almost let himself believe in it, and ignore the nagging voice in the back of his head that screamed that Enira was up to something neither of them were prepared for.

* * *

            Their “healing” sessions with Enira never got any easier.

            Keith’s screams the next morning didn’t grate on Lance’s ears so much as they buried a knife in his heart up to the hilt and then twisted it, over and over again, until his screams subsided, and they were left with a pain pulsing down their shared bonds with the Red and Black Lions. It wasn’t any better on Keith’s part when Enira glided over to the other side of the slab they were chained to and began healing Lance.

            Bones shifted back into place, skin stretched over deep gashes and mended sloppily, leaving behind angry scars. Lance bit down on most of his cries, if only to look the part of a fearless leader in front of one of Lotor’s druids, but a few still escaped him every now and again, and behind him, Keith screwed his eyes shut and tried to tune them out, tried to send comfort down their Lion connections.

            “ _Jeez_.”

            Lance let go of the tension in his muscles and sagged in his restraints as soon as Enira finished with him, breathing heavily as he reached through the Lion connection to respond to Keith.

            _I_ _’m alright. It’s okay._

            “Take them down to the training deck,” Enira ordered the soldiers standing at the door, without so much as a remark to Keith or Lance.

            The soldiers stepped forward, one on Keith, one on Lance. Lance fell forward as soon as his restraints were undone, and the soldier caught him roughly, dragging him to his feet, cuffing his hands behind his back. On the other side of the slab, Keith grunted as his soldier did the same.

            They were led out of the room side-by-side, until they reached the hallway that led to the training deck. Another hall branched off, and Keith was hauled in that direction, presumably to another entrance on the other side of the deck.

            “Alright,” the soldier grunted, after a minute or two.

            The door to the training deck opened. The guard undid Lance’s cuffs and shoved him inside without any further instructions, the door slamming closed between them. Lance paid him no mind—his eyes were on the other side of the deck, where sure enough, Keith was stumbling through a door of his own. Even at this distance, Lance knew the second their gazes met. Keith gave him a terse nod and straightened out, the two of them awaiting orders.

            _“Select a weapon, Paladins.”_

            Lance glanced to his left, at the same rack of weapons he’d been given yesterday, an identical one on Keith’s end of the deck. Sure enough, his bayard was nowhere to be found—Enira was smart enough to keep those hidden from them, still.

            Lance stalked over to the weapons, eyes flitting over the selection. Picking up a sword would throw Enira and the soldiers off, and it wasn’t like he was entirely incompetent with one. But If he and Keith wanted a chance to escape, their best bets lay in Lance using a gun. He picked up the rifle that most closely resembled the bayard form he favored, the weight only slightly off in his hands. Across the way, he watched Keith toy with a sword.

            _Alright. Let_ _’s do this thing._

            Lance took the minute or two between weapon selection and the first bot dropping from the ceiling to map out a tentative strategy. He and Keith needed to be near each other, first thing—Lance sprinted across the deck just as the simulation began, Enira ordering them over the loudspeaker to give the fight all they had, no doubt assessing their weaknesses for her own gain. He dropped to his knees and slid underneath laser fire, while Keith leapt over him and stabbed the first bot in the chest.

            _There are going to be guards on the other side of that door._ Lance’s eyes cut to Keith and the bots, and then back to the exit. If anything, it made more sense for Keith to get out first, and take on any guards head-on, while Lance covered his six and shot down anything in their long-range.

            “Keith!”

            Lance raised his gun and shot down two more bots just as they dropped from the ceiling, freeing Keith up to get to him. Keith dodged under a laser blast from another bot before Lance obliterated it, shrapnel flying. Then Lance spun on his heel and shot at the keypad that opened the door. It exploded with a shower of sparks, and the door slid open. Keith ran out first, Lance hot on his heels, while an alarm began wailing, the lights of the training deck fading from purple to deep red.

            “Which way?” Keith asked, turning in time to slash the barrel right off of the gun of the guard on the right side of the door, while Lance shot the one on the left at point-blank.

            _Bayards, bayards, need the bayards, fuck the armor, we_ _’ve got the Lions, we need the bayards…_

            Things would’ve been easier if their Lion connections extended to their bayards, but, unfortunately, they did not. Lance scowled at the thought before tucking it away. He couldn’t dwell—they needed to move before more guards and soldiers could come pouring in here and shooting at them when they were in nothing but their tattered jumpsuits.

            “Left!” Lance answered, and gave Keith a shove in that direction, and then tailed him.

            For the most part, Keith engaged no one, except for the odd soldier or two that slipped past Lance’s defenses. His shots were clean, steadier than they’d been in a long time, and whether it was the adrenaline making his head and body the kind of clear that they could be in battle only, or because every protective instinct was firing off at once, he wasn’t sure.

            Whatever. He’d take what he could get.

            “Any ideas as to where the bayards are?” Lance called up to him.

            _“You mean these?”_

            Keith and Lance both screeched to a halt as Enira materialized in front of them, a bayard in each hand, and after just a second of hesitation, Lance raised his bayard and fired, several times—and none of his laser blasts struck home. Enira disppeared and materialized again behind them, and Keith slashed out with his sword, angling himself in front of Lance.

            “We need those bayards.” Lance dropped his voice, low enough for only Keith to hear, but it was his unfortunate luck that Enira had some bullshit kind of supersonic hearing, or _something,_ because she threw her head back and laughed, and tossed one bayard down the far end of the hall, into the darkness—the black one, of the two—and dangled the red one in front of them.

            “Then _fetch,_ Paladins.”

            What Lance wouldn’t have given for some kind of telekinetic ability.

            Every second that he and Keith wasted floundering in front of Enira, trying to figure out what her game was, trying to figure out who went after the black bayard before someone else could snatch it up and who stayed to duke it out for the red bayard, was another second _wasted_ , and they didn’t have that many seconds to spare.

            “Give me the gun,” Keith whispered.

            Lance understood right away and traded weapons with Keith immediately, squaring his shoulders, testing the feel of the hilt in his palm as he and Keith stared down Enira, inching backwards. Enira glided forward, red bayard transforming under her touch, sending a shiver down Lance’s spine that he hoped to hell she hadn’t caught.

            “Quintessence manipulation, huh?” he bit out. “Fancy trick.”

            Footfalls sounded down the hall, and that was when Lance nudged Keith in the ribs, and he took off sprinting.

            “Wha—”

            With Enira’s gaze on Keith, Lance attacked.

            No, he wasn’t entirely incompetent with a sword—he was just a level or two below Keith, as a matter of fact, and though guns were his best weapon, no doubt about it…he liked to keep a trick or two up his sleeve, including this one.

            “Got a few tricks of my own!” Lance snapped at her, as his blade knocked against the one she’d formed out of the red bayard.

            Several pressing questions nagged at the back of Lance’s mind as he dueled Enira, far away from the series of strikes and parries happening right in front of his face. Questions about why _she_ had the bayards, or why she would just so flippantly toss one down the hall, or why it was—

            _Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck._

            This was both a trap and the _real_ test, because a simulation on the training deck could only go so far. To truly assess them, she would have to duel them herself—a real battle, as Keith and Lance fought for their bayards, fought their way to Red and Black to get off of this base and back to the team.

            “Keith!” Lance shouted, and hoped Keith heard the warning in his voice, felt it pulse down their Paladin bonds like an erratic heartbeat.

            “Astute Paladin,” Enira remarked, as Lance blocked a blow that likely would’ve taken off his head. “I clearly see now who the brains of the operation is. Truly living up to your Black Paladin title, aren’t you? I bet it’s taken some time.”

            _Let_ _’s not go there._

            Lance grit his teeth and pushed forward, tried to force Enira back—and then she disappeared on him. He stumbled the next few feet, while Enira’s laughter filled the hallway as she rematerialized at the other end.

            Right in front of Keith.

            _Nononono—_

            In another universe where they had their armor on, and the team was on standby, Lance might’ve had no problem keeping the mission going. But it was just the two of them in their jumpsuits, with no backup as far as they knew. There was a line to be drawn somewhere, where their lives became more important than the mission. And if the mission was just retrieving the bayards, then _fuck the bayards._

            Lance sprinted for Keith and Enira as Keith leapt back and leveled his gun, firing off several laser blasts that Enira absorbed with an energy shield, a shield that appeared in front of her a split second before the blasts made contact, a shield that deflected those blasts _directly at Keith._

            Keith dove to the floor and rolled out of the way, and came back up to one knee and fired his gun, over and over, just as Lance arrived.

            “Keith! Catch!”

            Keith didn’t even need to look up. He slid the gun along the floor, and one hand shot up, snatching the sword out of the air while Lance took up the rifle. Keith surged to his feet, just in time to block a double-bladed attack from Enira, bearing down on him with both bayards. Lance seized his opportunity to shoot, but Enira summoned her shields—summoned _without so much as looking at him._

            _We need to run, now._

            The issue was finding a place to run to.

            Soldiers flooded the hallway behind Enira, while training bots marched out of the training deck, and the other hallways were choking with sentries, guns whirring to life, the sound fighting the alarm to be the loudest thing in the corridor.

            “Give up yet, Paladins?” Enira asked, voice too calm for the situation as she shoved with both blades, and Keith staggered back until he was side-by-side with Lance.

            The soldiers, sentries, and bots around them all held their fire, Enira awaiting a response.

            Keith pressed his shoulder into Lance’s, sword held out in front of him, while Lance’s hands tightened around his rifle. Quitting now meant they’d be taken back to the cell, and Enira would have whatever information she needed, and she could proceed on with whatever she planned to do with them. Continuing to fight would end in either the same way, or in death, because Lance would’ve loved to boast his and Keith’s fighting abilities, both solo and as a team, but this was too much. They’d never make it out.

            _She_ _’s being generous,_ Lance thought then. _She could kill us right now if she wanted to._

            “You’re taking too long,” Enira growled suddenly, and Keith couldn’t dive out of the way of the ensuing arc of lightning.

            “Move!” Lance shouted, and shoved Keith to the ground, as the bolt hit him squarely in the chest.

            He realized, belatedly, that this wasn’t Enira’s typical lightning—wasn’t made to injure or to invade his mind.

            Every last one of his senses burned, his brain shrieking, limbs seizing up, and it was in his last moments of breath that he realized she’d been aiming to kill.

* * *

             _IdiotidiotidiotidiotidiotgetupmovesavehimDOSOMETHING—_

            Keith hadn’t registered the lightning. Hadn’t registered Lance bodyslamming him. Hadn’t registered his own face hitting the floor until pain blossomed in his nose, and something wet and warm gushed forth, and it occurred to him that his nose was bleeding and probably broken. And then it occurred to him Lance had pushed him out of the way of an attack from Enira, and now…

            “ _Lance!_ ”

            Guttural. Painful. The Black Paladin’s name tore from deep in his throat, in his chest, as Keith threw himself over the smoking body on the ground, fingers fumbling as they probed Lance’s neck, searching for a pulse, searching for _something,_ _some sign of life, Lance, please—_

            He tried to ignore the aching in his chest, a harsh gale fueling a raging wildfire, because if he acknowledged that pain, then he acknowledged the truth, _but there_ _’s no way it’s true, Lance, get up, come on!_

            _There_ _’s gotta be a pulse, my fingers are probably just shaking too hard, come on, Lance, look at me, please look at me, you’re my partner, you can’t leave me like this, I need you, what happened to Lance and Keith, side-by-side, hand-in-hand, together against the universe? What happened to that?_

            “Take that one back to the cells,” Enira said, bored-sounding, from behind Keith, and his fingers dug into Lance’s limp shoulders, as his eyes shifted up to Lance’s face, and his breath caught in the back of his throat. _Mistakemistakemistakemistakemistake—_

            Lance’s eyes were wide open, mouth frozen in a scream, a perfect picture of agony.

            Keith swallowed the bile in the back of his throat, holding fast to Lance’s body as several pairs of hands set upon him, wrenching him away.

            “No! Let go of me! LANCE!”

            Keith writhed and kicked, aiming for shins. He nearly headbutted one of the other soldiers, until another backhanded him across the face.

            “Knock him out,” Enira said with a casual wave of her hand. “And bring the other one back to the labs.”

            _Labs._

            “No!” Keith shouted. “Leave him alone!”

            Keith didn’t bat an eye when another soldier stopped in front of him, didn’t bat an eye when they raised their gun. He took the blow to the temple without so much as a cry, and fell limp in the arms of the soldiers holding him back.

**Author's Note:**

> I'M SORRY
> 
> i wanna make a fic comparison but sOME OF Y'ALL STILL HAVEN'T READ THAT FAR IN DECEIT SO NATURAL FOR ME TO MAKE THE JOKE
> 
> also,,, keith was gonna be the one to die. for months. up until i was halfway through writing this going...mmmmm...but what if...
> 
> and then i realized it's julance LANCE I LOVE YOU I'M SORRY
> 
> I'M SORRY


End file.
